


Morsmordre

by FreddieFoxBaxter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Auror Harry Potter, Bad Flirting, Blow Job, Bottom Harry, Criminal Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, Draco’s Birthday, Gay Draco Malfoy, Humor, M/M, Oblivious Harry Potter, Porn with some plot, Power Bottom Harry Potter, Rimming, Top Draco, Top Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:07:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24539737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreddieFoxBaxter/pseuds/FreddieFoxBaxter
Summary: Harry stepped closer, putting his hand directly against the glass. He didn’t know what to expect. It was cold and smooth. It was glass. And by the green sparks around the tip of his wand, a very Muggle glass.(or Harry is not a great Auror, Draco is minding his business and the neighbor doesn't like neither of them)
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 16
Kudos: 224





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to @cutie1365 for beta reading this work.
> 
> Enjoy!

Harry stood there, astonished. He had gotten a glimpse of that window a few hours before, but he had been busy chasing a suspect down the road, so he couldn’t stop to make sure he saw what he thought he saw, but at the end of his shift the doubt still hadn’t left his mind, he had to go back and check it out.

And he was right. There it was, right in front of his eyes. The damn Dark Mark spray painted on a shop window, right in the middle of a Muggle neighborhood! To be fair, the image was a little different than he remembered, a little more cartoonish, the colours more vibrating, but nevertheless it was there.

It wasn’t even a sketchy neighborhood per-se, it was a cross street near Camden Lock full of typical little shops and a few pubs here and there. Harry had never been there before, who knew how long that thing had been on that window. The streets were full of people – mostly on the young side – but nobody seemed to pay much attention to that particular shop.

Harry took another look at the sign.  _ Morsmordre _ . There could be no mistake. No way that was just a coincidence. His heart dropped in his chest. He crossed his arms, leaning against the wall of the shop right in front of the one he was checking out, waiting for the shock to run out. He should have brought backup, but he didn’t want to bother other agents in case he had been wrong.

He was still wondering what to do next, when the door opened and a man emerged from the shop. Harry held his breath, hiding in the shadow. Tall, blond, wearing a dark-green hoodie, Harry recognized him immediately. Their path hadn’t crossed in more than ten years, since the moment the man was sentenced to three years in Azkaban to pay for his crimes, but Harry was absolutely sure that Draco Malfoy was standing in front of him, in all his unmistakable gitness.

His hand flew instinctively to the wand in his back pocket. Malfoy had changed, to be fair. All the childishness had disappeared from his figure, in what had turned into a muscular body, if the forearm were a correct estimation for the rest of him. At first glimpse, Harry thought he was wearing a tight, coloured, long-sleeved shirt, but after a second look, he realized that Malfoy’s forearms were covered in tattoos.

But his face was still very much his face. Pointy chin, strong cheekbones – more pronounced than Harry remembered, light golden hair, although it looked shorter than before, at least on the sides, because Malfoy had a long quaff perfectly styled so that it laid back on the top of his head.

Harry frowned. What the fuck? He had almost forgotten everything about Malfoy, and his life was much better for it, thank you very much, and now he had to show back up, all tattooed and with every probability, doing something very much illegal. Three years in jail didn’t teach him anything. He sighed.

The man was lighting up a cigarette, and he still hadn’t decided how to proceed. He was supposed to be at the Burrow for dinner that night, he couldn’t be late just because he had to keep an eye on Malfoy of all people. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to walk away. Something in his stomach was keeping him there. A doubt. Could the git really be so stupid? What was he up to? Harry had to know.

He pondered for a moment the idea of walking up to him and demanding answers. He was a Head Auror, he had all the rights to do so, it was his job. But if Malfoy was really as dumb as the outside of the shop seemed to suggest, he could be up to something dangerous, and Harry might just find himself in the middle of a trap of some sort. He shook his head. He couldn’t make his move while Malfoy was still there.

He would have to excuse himself early after dinner and come back to check up on the place, then he would decide if a bigger department involvement was necessary He waited till Malfoy finished his cigarette and disappeared again inside the shop before he Apparated himself directly to the Burrow.

The street was empty when he came back, less than three hours later. It was a cloudy night, and there was little to no traffic at that time of the evening, with all the shops closed. Apparently the pubs weren’t driving too much clientele either. Harry discretely turned the street lamp off before he approached the suspicious window. He looked inside, but it was too dark to really see anything. He could barely make out what looked like a small sofa and a desk on the opposite side of the tiny room.

He checked behind his back, but still not a soul, so he felt safe enough to take out his wand. Harry cast a few spells, but the results left him more confused than before. Yet the answer was pretty clear, no magic trails detected. The second attempt gave him the same result, leaving him frustrated. He cast a couple more, just to be sure, murmuring the words a bit louder, but he still couldn’t find any trace of magic. That did nothing to appease his suspicions.

Harry stepped closer, putting his hand directly against the glass. He didn’t know what to expect. It was cold and smooth. It was glass. And by the green sparks around the tip of his wand, a very Muggle glass. He tilted his head on the side, biting the inside of his cheek. That was weird, right? Malfoy was in that exact spot just a few hours prior, how could he have left no trace? Not even a time-check spell, nothing.

“This is the last time, Mrs. Hill, I’m calling the police.” Harry jumped at the familiar voice. He turned around just in time to get blinded by a sudden flash of light.

"You’re not Mrs. Hill" Malfoy realized, lowering the hand holding the flashlight. The men stared at each other for what seemed like a whole minute before any of them could utter a single word.

"Harry Potter," Malfoy spat, disdain pouring out of his tone, "Of course it’s you. Who else would come sticking their nose where it doesn’t belong".

Harry shrugged off the initial shock and quickly raised his wand. He had been so focused on his charms, he hadn’t noticed the man coming out from around the corner. Rookie mistake – he thought. Malfoy lowered his eyes to look at the wand in his hand, just for a second, then they were back on Harry’s face. Studying him with an unnerving amused expression.

"That’s not fair. You brought a wand to a fist-fight" the man joked, and Harry frowned in confusion.

"You guys still have mine" Malfoy explained, pointing at the wand with a light motion of his chin. Of course. Harry knew that. It was part of their sentence. The Death Eaters had to relinquish their wands and were banned from practicing magic for ten years after their jail time. It was a bit harsh, but it was what they deserved.

"Were you going to punch Mrs. Hill?" Harry asked before he could stop himself. That was beyond the point.

"Trust me, if you knew her, you would want to punch her in the face too," Malfoy murmured with a shrug. Harry didn’t know this lady, but he knew Malfoy, so he imagined it took very little to bother him to the point he wanted to punch her.

"What do you want, Potter?" Malfoy asked, as if the answer wasn’t obvious.

"Malfoy, what the fuck?" Harry replied, gesturing in the general direction of the painted window with his free hand.

"I thought it was funny" the other man said, "Muggles don’t really understand it, and people who could get it never come this way, so I thought why not".

"Why not?" Harry rebuked. Malfoy’s annoying demeanor was getting on his nerves. He seemed so calm and collected despite being caught red-handed.

"First of all, it’s illegal" the man exclaimed with his best figure-of-authority tone, pointing right at the Dark Mark.

"It doesn’t have a trademark if that’s what you mean. I’m allowed to use it". That was it. That was the moment Harry realized he was about to hit Draco Malfoy.

"That’s not the point" the man hissed through his teeth, clenching his fist to resist the impulse to punch Malfoy right in his smug face. He relaxed the fingers around the wand.

"So what’s the point?" Malfoy persisted, the most innocent look on his face.

"The point is that nobody is allowed to use the Dark Mark, it has awful connotations and you even wrote the spell on your sign!" Harry snapped. He had had enough. He wasn’t going to let Malfoy disrespect the memory of the lives lost anymore.

"You think people should be afraid of an image. How was it,  _ fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself _ . Isn’t it the same thing here?" Malfoy quoted with a smirk.

"That’s Hermione’s speech, don’t quote her speech" Harry scolded.

"Why not, it’s a good speech". Harry glared at him for a moment. He had to admit defeat, Malfoy seemed to have decent answers to all his questions. He needed a better plan.

"Fine" he granted, "I’ll be watching you, Malfoy".

"You do that. Am I free to go now, Auror Potter?". Harry slowly nodded. He sighed while Malfoy walked back to where he came from and disappeared around the corner. Harry followed right behind him just in time to see him enter the building from a door in the alley.

Harry looked around, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. It was just a secondary alley, scarcely illuminated with a few dumpsters and old stairways that led to the upper floors of the buildings on each side.

If Malfoy thought he was going to give up so easily, he was dead wrong. Harry was sure he was up to something, he wouldn’t give him the chance to destroy or hide evidence. As pathetic as it sounded, he had nothing better to do that night, so he wasn’t going anywhere. He’d stay put all night long and ask for backup in the morning, to make sure there was always an agent around.

Time went by so slowly Harry was sure it had stopped. He had stood guard while the few pubs closed and their clientele had left the street, now completely empty. He had stared for a moment at a stray cat running down the alley, but that was what felt a thousand hours ago. He had stopped looking at his watch, because it felt like it was slowing down time even more. The street was silent. He could hear the noise of a few cars now and then on the main roads around there, but nobody had come that way.

Harry yawned. He checked once more the spells he had cast, but still no movement or magic signs from inside the building. He was starting to feel like an idiot. He sat in front of the shop, his back against the window that had started it all, feeling defeated. He needed coffee. A strong one if he wanted to stay awake till dawn. He should have asked Hermione, but he was sure the only thing that’d have accomplished was a good old scolding from his best friend. It wasn’t his fault if he found every action of Malfoy inherently suspicious, and hadn’t he been right in the past anyway?

He’d have to make sure to tell that to Hermione whenever he had the chance. Which was probably going to be soon, because Harry was sure he had broken a protocol or two that very night. Confronted a suspect without backup? Check. Standing guard to a suspect without proper authorization from his superior? Check. Jumping right into what could be a dangerous situation that might get him killed? Also check.

Robards established too many protocols to keep track of, so Harry was sure he was forgetting a few, but that didn’t matter at the moment. He was focused, he was ready for action. He was just going to sit there for a few more minutes.

"What do you think you are doing young man?! This is a respectable neighborhood, you know". A stinging pain on his head woke Harry up. A tiny woman was hitting him with a pan, Harry realized after a second blow hit his head.

"Wait, ma’am, please" he tried, but the woman just hit him again before he could raise his hands to protect himself.

"I’m calling the police, you can’t sleep here!" the woman yelled, so close to his face that Harry could count all the lines that years had left on hers. His ears were ringing from the pain and the screams. The old lady was screaming so loudly now that Harry feared she was going to wake up the whole neighborhood.

"What is going on here?". Harry never thought he’d feel relieved hearing Malfoy’s voice, and yet there he was.

"This is all your fault, you know?" the old lady shouted, but at least this time she was directing her anger towards Malfoy and had stopped striking him.

"How is it my fault?" the man retorted.

"This was a proper street before you opened up your shop, with all those no-good people coming around, and now look – homeless people sleeping around". Harry gritted his teeth at Malfoy’s chuckle. Of course the git found the situation hilarious, it wasn’t his head that had been hit with a pan.

"Mrs. Hill, why don’t you go back to sleep? I’ll deal with this".

"Oh I’ll go home all right, I’ll go home to call the police and get you both arrested" the woman threatened again, but luckily for them, she chose to follow Malfoy’s suggestion and stomped back to her own place, in the building in front of Malfoy’s.

"So that’s Mrs. Hill," Harry mumbled, watching the woman walk away, clutching the infamous pan to her chest.

"Yeah," Malfoy confirmed, "what did I tell you?" The man crossed his arms against his chest and stared at him for more than a few seconds. Harry didn’t like that insisting gaze, but his head had begun pulsating from pain, so he didn’t have the will to fight him.

"You are bleeding, you know" Malfoy pointed out in a matter-of-fact voice that made Harry bring his hand to his forehead. A viscous fluid was pouring down his skin and when the man looked at his fingers they were indeed covered in blood.

"Oh Merlin, why me" Malfoy mumbled mostly to himself, helping Harry get up from the ground where he was still sitting.

"Let’s get that cleaned up," Malfoy sighed. Harry was speechless following Malfoy around the corner. The man led him into a tiny apartment right above the shop. He was made to wait on a white leather sofa while Malfoy moved to a room on the right, so he used that chance to take a look around. Not that there was much to look at.

The living room was tiny and tidy. The TV in the corner shocked him the most, and he had to admit that the bookcase covering the whole wall next to it was gorgeous. There was a little fireplace next to the door Malfoy went into, a few shelves on the walls, and many pictures and drawings all around the room. Harry would have loved to get closer to study them, but he was starting to feel queasy, so he didn’t move.

Behind the sofa there was a wooden staircase which led to the loft. All in all, it was a nice apartment. Harry wondered if Malfoy lived there all by himself, not that he was going to ask that, it was none of his business, and he didn’t care anyway.

Malfoy saved him from the embarrassing perspective of having to analyze the reason why the thought of him living with someone else had bothered Harry by coming back with a tray. He kneeled in front of him and washed his forehead with a damp cloth.

That was the first chance Harry had to look at him so up close. His gaze fell immediately to his forearms, bared by Malfoy’s rolled up sleeves. Now he could tell apart the figures tattooed on his skin. He recognized a few flowers, a Hippogriff, and a baby elephant. They were all different in style, but they were all beautiful. Harry liked the baby elephant the most. It was colored in a way that made it look like a watercolor drawing, with a strong black outlining.

Malfoy’s right arm was just as colorful, but it somehow looked messier. Harry caught a glimpse of the head and the upper torso of a dragon that disappeared under the sleeve, and the whole forearm was full of flowers and cartoonish mundane images, to the point that it was almost impossible to focus on a single one, his gaze was already pulled in a different direction. Harry did his best to avoid focusing on the muscles beneath, but they were just in front of him, they were hard to miss.

"This might sting a little" Malfoy warned, but Harry wasn’t paying attention, so he hissed when Malfoy cleaned his cut with disinfectant.

"Don’t be a child, it’s not that bad". Malfoy’s voice was low, almost soothing. Harry lowered his gaze once again, to avoid eye contact. He focused on the forearm, looking for what he already knew was there. It took him a few moments to spot the Dark Mark, and only then he realized that that was probably the reason why Malfoy had his skin covered in tattoos.

"Why does she hate you so much? Mrs. Hill, I mean" Harry asked out of the blue, mostly to interrupt the suffocating silence in the room. He noticed the amusement in Malfoy’s eyes before the man answered.

He shrugged. "She thinks I’m an ex-con because of my tattoos". Harry bit his lower lips, mulling over his words.

"Isn’t she right though?" he asked, "you  _ are _ an ex-con because of... well, one of your tattoos". Harry held his breath. The room fell silent once again. Then, it happened. Malfoy burst in a laugh. It was husky and short, and Harry loved it. He loved that sound. It was a charming song he had never heard before, and yet it resonated in his stomach, making him ache to hear it once more.

"All done, you’ll live. It shouldn’t even leave a scar" Malfoy chuckled, breaking the silence once again. Harry sighed; the band aid on his forehead was pulling his skin, but all in all he couldn’t complain about the treatment.

Malfoy finally lowered his arm, and Harry caught a glimpse of his neck for the first time. There was a tiny wasp, right below Malfoy’s right ear; Harry brushed it with the tip of his finger, to make sure it was just a tattoo, because it was so realistic it looked ready to fly off the pale skin it was tattooed on. His gaze slid along Malfoy’s neck, and he noticed a bigger piece poking out of the hoodie, reaching Malfoy’s throat, but he couldn’t figure out what it was supposed to be.

His skin was warm and smooth under Harry’s fingers. Malfoy didn’t move during his examination, but he did giggle a little when Harry’s touch reached the base of his neck.

"There’s more if you want to keep looking" Malfoy teased, and Harry felt the blood burn his cheeks. He didn’t mean to stare, but it was almost impossible for him to look away. Not his fault he found tattoos so damn attractive. Luckily for him Malfoy didn’t have a beard, or he would have already made a fool of himself. It had been too long since he was so close to somebody – he thought. Not that Malfoy had to know, but it was just lonely to be Harry Potter some times.

"Maybe another time" he blurted. Malfoy must have figured out his predicament, because his expression was more amused than usual.

"Stop staring then" he teased again with a low voice that sent a shiver down Harry’s spine. Despite his words, the man didn’t seem to mind being looked at, and he figured he must have been used to it by now.

"Do you have any?" Malfoy pried arching his eyebrow; Harry shook his head in reply.

"I looked into it, but the guy I went to said it’s impossible to use colours with my dark skin, and I don’t like all-black tattoos" he explained, holding his breath when Malfoy leant in, grabbed Harry’s forearm to look at his skin, with a light frown on his face.

"That’s not true, it might take a few tweaks, but it’s doable. Also, golden brown is hardly dark skin. You just need a better artist". His tone was so confident that Harry believed him on the spot. His skin was burning where Malfoy laid his fingers to hold on to his arm, and the gentle gaze was making him shiver.

"Are you offering?" he joked, but the look Malfoy gave him made him wish he had kept his mouth shut. Amusement was brightening his grey eyes, but Harry noticed something else behind it, something he couldn’t quite make out. It was intense and it was enough to set his body on fire. For a moment, he wondered how it’d feel to be permanently marked by Malfoy.

Mercifully, the other man stopped his examination. Malfoy let go of his arm and stood up.

"Wait here".

Harry sighed in relief when the man left the room once again. His thoughts were all over the place and his heart was pounding in his chest. The images that flowed around his mind made him clutch his fists to stop them from shaking so much.

"Get a grip" he hissed through his teeth, taking a few deep breaths. He refused to believe Malfoy’s presence could affect him so much; he tried his best to relax before the other man came back.

Malfoy returned minutes later with a couple of smoking mugs in his hands "Here, drink this".

"What is it?" he asked, suspicion poking from the back of his mind, and Malfoy rolled his eyes.

"It’s tea, Potter". He took a dramatic sip from his own mug staring at him right in the eyes, after sitting on the coffee table in front of the sofa. Harry was slightly relieved and embarrassed for doubting him, so he chose to sip his tea in silence. That didn’t last long. Harry frowned once more.

"Why are you being so… human?"

Malfoy didn’t seem to take offence at his words, because he laughed again. It was the same laughter as before, and it pulled the corner of Harry’s lip upwards.

"Let’s just say I’d rather you didn’t die on me" he laughed. The sip Harry just took went down the wrong way, and he had to cough to be able to breathe again.

"What did I just say, Potter!" Malfoy scolded, but his face was far more amused than angry.

"I thought you said I was gonna be ok" Harry managed through the coughing, which seemed to delight Malfoy even more.

"From the cut? Sure, but you might still have a concussion".

"I doubt that," Harry rebuked. He had enough of those to know this time it wasn’t more than a little bruise on his head, nothing to worry about.

Malfoy bit his lower lip "Suit yourself".

And then silence came back, but it was different this time, just a few traces of the tension between them were left. They were just two men sipping boiling hot tea in the middle of the night.

Except they weren’t. Harry was extremely aware of Malfoy’s proximity. He looked at his long, fair, eyelashes caress his skin every time he closed his eyes to savour the tea. The warmth of the drink had reddened his lips, and the man was making pleased little moans at every sip. Harry wondered if he was doing it on purpose, and if he knew it was working. Malfoy was just too close for his liking.

For a second, he also wondered what reaction he would have if Harry had leant in to caress his cheekbones. The thought made him shiver, but – Merlin help him – he had a thing for men with strong facial bone structure. Why Malfoy, of all people, had to be so pleasing to look at.

In that moment, Harry made a promise to himself. If he managed to end that night with an ounce of dignity left, he would never let that much time pass between a partner and the next one.

Molly loved reminding him, it was about time he settled down once and for all. And, since he found himself lusting after Malfoy, he was ready to admit the woman might be right. He needed a new boyfriend. A nice one, this time. What was it with him and bad boys anyway? Once again, it was Malfoy who saved them both.

"Potter," he sighted, "it’s three in the morning and I have my first appointment at eight tomorrow, so let me do us both a favour. Let’s pretend you have a warrant".

"The shop is up to code, both Muggle and Magical. I don’t own it, so you can’t blame the name on the sign on me. I did draw the painting on the window, I’ll give you that, but if you look closely you’ll see there are significant changes from the source. It’s a transformative work of art, and as such is protected under the law. Blaise already argued that in front of the Ministry employee whose very job is to make sure I behave myself" Malfoy said with a sleepy tone. Harry listened carefully, looking for a reason to doubt his words, but he couldn’t be sure off the top of his head, he’d have to verify with the department.

"You can check, if you don’t believe me. I was assigned to Chambers. He isn’t pleased with me, but so far I gave him no reason to put me back in jail" he continued.

"I’ll do that" Harry warned, but the sincerity in Malfoy’s voice had moved him. Maybe the man had changed after all, but he wasn’t ready to fully trust him yet.

"Glad we could clear this up. Which begs the question, what do we do now?"

Malfoy’s question caught him off guard. He looked at his face, searching for clues of a deeper meaning, but his expression was once again neutral. His eyes were a little darker than normal, but that didn’t have to mean anything, or at least, it wasn’t worth getting his hopes up.

Malfoy wasn’t being helpful at all. The git was all smirks and dimples on his cheeks, and Harry was convinced he knew exactly what effect he had on him. The beast in his chest purred at every smile, utterly charmed by the blond antics.

"I think I should go," he blurted standing up. Malfoy blinked, confusion splashed all over his face, but it lasted less than a second, and then he slowly nodded. Harry ignored the disgruntled growl in his chest and all but ran to the door, too quick to catch even a glimpse of Malfoy’s reaction.

He mumbled "See you around" before stepping outside into the alley; a chilly breeze caressed his flushed cheeks. It was a quiet night, a sharp discrepancy with how he felt inside. He compelled himself to take the first step away from the door he had just shut behind his back. It took all the strength he had left, but he did it. He Apparated home and he threw himself into bed, unable to calm down the loud pounding of his heart.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draco is 40 today and I feel old.
> 
> Enjoy!

Harry went to check first thing the next morning. Cup of coffee in one hand, his suitcase in the other, and the weight of a sleepless night on his shoulders. He squinted at the Departments chart in the lobby, looking for the right location. He had heard of the creation of the Death Eaters Rehabilitation And Guardianship Department right after the trials, but he had no idea where to find it.

He nodded to the Ministry employee who greeted him while he was getting off the lift on the second level. He still had a few turns to make, and he was about to lose hope to ever find the right office when he noticed a sign next to the doorway on his left. His nose itched because of the smell of mould; the walls were painted with a pale shade of green, but the paint was now too old to make out which one. They were decorated with a few landscape paintings, but they did nothing to brighten the gloomy hallway.

Harry looked around. He had never been to that area of the Ministry and nothing he saw gave him the desire to ever come back. He was about to turn on his heels and go back to work when he finally laid his eyes on a witch who looked like she worked there.

The woman warbled “Mr. Potter!” as soon as she noticed his presence, “Such an honor to see you down here”.

“Good morning ma’am” Harry greeted her with a brief smile, by now used to that kind of reaction, and took a huge sip from his cup while getting closer to her desk.

“Call me Cynthia, how can I help you?” she asked with a bright smile. Harry didn’t know how people could be so happy first thing in the morning, but the woman seemed too nice to deserve being infected by his bad mood.

He sighed “I was looking for Mr. Chambers”.

“Well, then, you are in the right place, Sir., his office is the third one on the right”. 

Harry smiled one last time before walking away in the direction she pointed. After a moment of pause, he knocked on the door. Enough Aurors had barged into his office like they owned the place to know how annoying that was.

Meeting with Mr. Chambers was surreal to say the least, downright terrifying when Harry stopped to think about it. The old man had skipped all the small talks as soon as Harry mentioned Malfoy’s name. He had jumped up from his chair to retrieve a huge folder from a file cabinet older than time itself. He then pushed it right under Harry’s nose, reassuring him that it was just volume one.

Harry didn’t feel reassured at all after a peek into the first few pages. The folder was full of what it looked like an extremely detailed documentation of every single step Malfoy took in the first days after the end of his sentence, completed with pictures and handwritten notes. Harry paused to look at the one written next to a Magical photograph of Malfoy petting a cat which read “Black cat = black magic?”

He lift his eyes to look into Mr. Chambers’ green ones as the man was explaining how he was so sure “Malfoy was up to something” and he “just couldn’t quite prove it yet”, “but it was bad for sure, nefarious even”, then he went back to the pages. There were pictures of Malfoy walking down Diagon Alley, or having lunch with his mother or the friends he had left. Even a picture of him coming out from Madam Malkin’s shop with his hands full of bags and a pair of muggle dark shades covering half of his face.

Excluding those that looked like they were taken by someone hiding inside some bushes - which said more about the person behind the camera than about the one in front of it - they were all so mundane and insignificant he didn’t bother reading the captions.

One particular page at the end of the dossier caught his attention. It looked like Mr. Chambers was keeping track of Malfoy’s tattoos for some reason; he had photographed every single one of them, typed a description and then, once again, added a personal note “Charmed to look Muggle?”.

There were pages upon pages of them. “Charmed to look Muggle?”, “Charmed to look Muggle?”, “Charmed to look Muggle?” written on every single picture.

His vision was blurry when he finally looked up from the pages, met with a desk now utterly hidden under an ever-growing mountain of folders; Mr. Chambers didn’t bother to pick up the few that had fallen onto the floor, too busy retrieving file after file. Only the bald top of his head surrounded with a crown of black hair was visible behind the pile.

The grip on Harry’s last strand of sanity was lost the second Mr. Chambers put his round glasses on his nose. He blinked, speechless, still clutching the file in his hand holding on to it for dear life. Was that the future awaiting for him? Alone in a mouldy, damp-dog smelling office, buried under needless folders and babbling about Malfoy’s imaginary crimes? At the thought, his heart sank in his chest. He needed to get out of there.

“I should get back to work” he mumbled as he looked to no avail for a place to put down the dossier.

“You can keep that, I have copies” Mr. Chambers said when he noticed Harry’s failed attempts.

He slowly nodded “I had no doubt”.

“About time someone looked into that good-for-nothing scum, and Harry Potter, no less, must be something big”. 

“Oh it’s big” Harry agreed.

“I knew it!” Mr. Chambers’ eyes glistened as he probably felt vindicated for all his – mainly self-inflicted – troubles. “Anything I can help you with, you just ask. Anything at all”.

“Definitely, no, I’ll owl you immediately” Harry assured him as he slowly backed away from the man and his folders.

Harry couldn’t believe what he just saw. He walked back to the lift trying to convince himself it was all just a bad hallucination given by his lack of sleep.

“There he is, the Savior of the Wizarding World”.

Harry sighed. That was just not his day.

Zabini was waiting for him right next to the golden lift, arms crossed and the warlike expression he used in court as he dismantled piece by piece the cases the Aurors had built plastered on his face. He was an attractive man, no one was denying that, but Merlin, was he annoying.

Harry cut him off, “Save it”, as they waited side by side for the lift to reach the floor, but Blaise Zabini was never a good listener.

“What are you doing around here?” he asked with that bright grin of his, acting all innocent when Harry knew what kind of man hid underneath it. He never forgave him for breaking Neville’s heart.

So he gritted through his teeth “None of your business”, making sure Zabini sensed just how much he despised him, grateful the lift was there at last, so he could get rid of the man presence.

“Oh, you see, when you go around harassing one of my clients, then it becomes my business”. The man voice was infused with venom as Zabini followed him inside the golden cubicle.

Harry rolled his eyes with a snort “I’m not harassing anybody, just checking up on some stuff”.

Zabini smirked “Sure you are”.

“Fuck off, Zabini”. That killed the conversation; they both remained silently in their corners waiting for the lift to reach their respective floor.

Harry didn’t leave the lift fast enough, Zabini still found the time for a last warning.

“Potter, I’m serious. Leave Draco alone”.

And Harry did leave him alone. For a whole week at least. It was at the end of his Thursday afternoon shift that he decided Zabini had no right to tell him what to do. He was about to Apparate directly in front of Malfoy’s door when he figured he better go home and take a shower first.

He had a plan this time; he was going to hit on Malfoy, get rejected – possibly humiliated – and get on with his life. To be fair that wasn’t a great plan, but it was the best one he got and it was either that or keep wanking off while thinking about Malfoy for only Merlin knew how long, so that would have to do.

More than two hours later he finally did Apparate in the alley; he was left waiting for a solid minute after he first knocked on the door, to the point he considered casting a tracing charm to verify that Malfoy was indeed home, but he decided against it, as it would be too rude and he had no desire to put Malfoy off before he even opened the door.

Harry cast all of his doubts off of his mind; no more thinking that night, he was just following his hormones, as Ron liked to joke every time Harry found himself in the arms of a tall blond bloke. Come to think of it, Harry did seem to have a type. His nervous chuckle got stuck in his throat as Malfoy finally opened the door wearing nothing but a white tank top and old sweatpants, wet and disheveled hair and a red face from a recent hot shower, judging by the towel resting on his shoulders.

“Potter”. Malfoy arched one of his perfectly plucked eyebrow and composed himself in a mask of gentle indifference but not quickly enough for Harry to miss the sparkle of surprise that had brightened his eyes.

Harry barely managed to blurt out an “Hi” because Malfoy had no business looking that good without even trying.

“I think I was wrong about you. So maybe this means you were right”  _ fuck _ , he should have rehearsed that part, he thought as the words came stumbling out of his mouth. Not a great start.

“Potter,” and this time the man made sure to drag each syllable of his last name, “Is this supposed to be an apology?”

Harry sighed “Yeah”, grateful Malfoy got the point of his babbling sparing him from further embarrassment.

“I assume there is no point expecting something better coming from you”. Harry wanted to smack the smug smirk out of his stupid pretty face hadn’t he been distracted by his naked arms, now crossed against Malfoy’s chest, in all their inked glory.

He shrugged “Yeah”, unable to formulate anything more elaborate than that; he blamed his foggy brain on the lack of sleep, not that in other conditions he would have been able to make a better speech hadn’t Hermione bothered to write it down for him, but Malfoy didn’t need to know all the details just yet.

“Anything else I can do for you?” Draco’s voice was so falsely cheesy it left a bitter aftertaste in Harry’s mouth, but it wasn’t enough to discourage him from his goal.

He answered with a “Yeah” one last time as he cupped Malfoy’s face and, standing on the tip of his toes, he pressed his lips against Malfoy’s. That wasn’t part of his original plan, but he was never one to stick to plans. Malfoy wasn’t sticking to it either, he realized, as he had yet to reject him – or his kiss. 

It was not what Harry would define a gentle kiss, for a while it was not dissimilar from their fights at Hogwarts; there was a lot of pushing and pulling as they both got used to each other enough to stop teeth and noses from clashing.

Soon Harry found himself backed against the wall, Malfoy’s chest pressing against his. It was an all too familiar situation for them, but this time it was different. There was no animosity between them when Malfoy pulled back, breaking the kiss. His eyes were darkened and his breathing heavy, but his face only reflected surprise at Harry’s actions. His lips were cherry red and a bit swollen when Malfoy licked them, unknowingly mimicking what Harry wanted to do.

“Wait,” Harry stopped him as Draco lowered his face leaning closer, “Is this ok?”

“You kissed  _ me _ , Potter”.

“I did” Harry agreed, ignoring the discomfort for being called by his surname, “And I’d like to keep doing it, if you are ok with it”.

“I’m ok with it” Malfoy whispered on his lips right before going back to kiss him. For a man who always looked so cold and collected, Draco’s kisses were unexpectedly passionate. He caressed Harry’s face and neck and back, and in his dizziness, Harry wondered how many hands did he have, because they were everywhere, burning hot against every inch of bare skin they could find. His tongue invaded Harry’s mouth, exploring and stroking it with a hunger that did match Harry’s own.

He grabbed his hips, fingers captured into the top fabric and aching to touch Malfoy’s skin. As he finally reached it, he sighed; his back was smooth and soft and still warm from the shower.

“Well, come inside” a winded Malfoy joked, pausing the kiss once again to shut the door they both forgot open until then.

“I was hoping you’d be the one doing that…” Harry’s eyes went wide as soon as he realized what had just slipped through his lips, but it was too late to take it back; Malfoy blinked at him for a few seconds, the hand he pushed the door with still up in the air.

They stared at each other, both startled by Harry’s inability to filter his own thoughts. Malfoy snapped out of it first and a wild grin blossomed on his face.

“Even better” he growled. Draco embraced him again just in time for an impatient Harry to Apparate them upstairs; last time he was there he didn’t get the chance to see the upstairs floor of the apartment, so the landing was less than perfect as they both stumbled onto the bed. Harry didn’t mind, quite busy feasting his eyes on the handsome man on top of him. The bulge pressing against his thigh made his mouth water in anticipation.

His breath got caught in his throat when Draco took off his tank top and threw it somewhere on the floor, where it landed with a soft puff. Harry had finally the chance to take a full look at the tattoo on the man’s throat. Of course, he thought, the thing he couldn’t recognise was one of the tentacles of the Giant Squid, gently resting on Draco’s sternum. The other were carefully draped all over his chest to disguise the scars on his skin.

He swallowed the guilt trapped in his throat, focusing instead on the sharp contrast between Draco’s pale skin and the rich darkness of the tattoo. It was mesmerizing and the imagery was crafted to force the eyes away from the damaged skin underneath. Harry let his gaze slide over the man torso, basking in the view of his lean figure.

That is until his eyes fell on the tattoo on Draco’s left ribs.

“No, wait” he said pushing him away.

Draco grumbled “What now?” as he sat back on his heels. Harry ignored the frustration in his voice, instead pointing at the newly discovered tattoo.

“Is that… is that Minerva McGonagall?”

“Uh?” Draco followed his gaze and ran a hand through his hair “Oh, I lost a bet and was either her or Trelawney”.

Harry’s heart sunk in his chest. The woman depicted was younger and way perkier than the current Headmistress, but the scowl on her face and the squared glasses were taken straight from her portrait.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do it while she looks at me like that” he whispered, distraught at his plan unraveling in front of his eyes now that he was so close to get what he wanted. Draco blinked at him, incredulity written all over his face.

“Wait, I have an idea” he then brightened, bending over towards the night stand. Harry had the chance to finally take a good look at Draco’s arse. It was a great one. A perfect bubble butt on top of the longest legs Harry had ever seen. He grinned, wondering how to put Draco in the mood to let him tap that. Luckily for him, the man was turned the other way sparing him the embarrassment to be seen blushing at his own thoughts.

He giggled as he watched Draco scribbling over the tattoo’s face with a black marker.

“Better?” Draco asked turning back to meet his eyes; Harry swallowed. He didn’t expect him to care enough to accommodate him, up until a minute ago he was sure Draco was about to kick him out of the house.

He slowly nodded “Actually… yes”, as a grin blossomed upon his lips; he didn’t fail to spot the jerk under Draco’s trousers, which was enough to ignite sparks inside his chest. The rest of their clothes soon followed the tank top scattered on the floor.

“Are you sure you are not going to regret this?” Draco whispered into his ear, but it was hard to focus with his lips kissing his neck.

“Yeah” was all he managed to answer; Draco’s hands were everywhere, caressing and teasing and that didn’t help him pay attention either.

“And what do you want exactly?” Draco’s voice on his neck made him shiver. Harry swallowed. He could feel the hunger, the impatience in Draco’s request, but Harry wasn’t ready to let him take control of the situation like that.

“Let me show you” he winked, pushing Draco on his back and straddling on his lap. If the man was displeased with that change of position, he didn’t show any sign of it. Harry leant forward to kiss the wasp on his neck while pinching Draco’s nipples. He felt him hold his breath, but he didn’t stop there.

He left a path of soft kisses from the wasp to the squid; he made sure to kiss all the tentacles, gently caressing the scars they hid. He let his hands slide over Draco’s chest and torso, touching and exploring every inch of bare skin, as Draco did the same with his thighs and back. Harry sighed; Draco’s hands were burning against his skin, he was sure they were marking him forever.

Harry took his time, licking and tasting and biting as he moved lower on his body. He sat back on his heels, the frown on Draco’s face for the interruption immediately turned into a smile when Harry fisted his cock and began stroking it slowly; with a last look at his face, Harry leant in again, taking its head between his lips. He sucked away the first drops of pre-cum, letting it dance on his tongue.

Draco hissed “Fuck” and Harry smiled. He teased him for a while, but only when Draco put a hand on his head, fingers running through his hair, Harry finally swallowed him whole. Draco gasped, but he didn’t stop, sucking the beautiful cock in his throat was his only purpose, nothing else mattered.

When he finally let him go, Draco was shivering and his eyes had reached the color of the sky right before the first thunder; he licked his dried up lips giving Draco a few moments to catch his breath.

Instead, Draco sat up to meet him, tasting himself on Harry’s lips. He stared at his mouth before raising his eyes into Harry’s.

“That was really nice, you must let me return the favour” he teased, lining Harry’s mouth with his thumb. He didn’t wait for his answer and pushed Harry on the bed. The sheets where Draco had laid were still warm against his stomach, but he didn’t really have the time to appreciate it. Draco sat on the back of his thighs, his cock brushing against his ass as Draco leant down to kiss the back of his neck.

Not even in his naughtiest fantasies Harry had come close to imagine how good Draco’s tongue would feel on his spine. He sighed and closed his eyes, letting himself go to the pleasure of that warm mouth against his back.

Draco bit the skin at the base of his neck, and Harry found himself biting his lower lip as he felt him sliding down his back. He stiffened when Draco spanked him out of the blue, and twisted himself to cast him a look over his shoulder, but the man was smirking, his eyes sparkling.

“You have a nice ass, I’ll give you that” Harry shook his head, but he had no time to rebuke, because with no warning Draco bent over to bite his right butt cheek and then spread them open, holding them firmly in his hands, his thumb outlining his hole. Harry swallowed. The sudden breeze on his sensitive skin made him shiver, but again, Draco left him no time to react. His tongue on his back was nothing compared to his tongue on his hole.

All the reverence he had shown to his body up until then was gone. Draco licked it with real hunger, teasing it and forcing it open. Harry arched his back and thrust his hips towards him, but it wasn’t enough. He pressed his lips together to trap all his moans inside, but Draco was relentless. He pushed the top of his tongue inside. A faint groan escaped Harry’s lips and he was lost. He put all the shame and pride aside, his only focus the flames consuming him from his groin. His cock was so hard it ached and Harry was sure he wasn’t going to last much longer, but he still needed more.

Draco must have figured he was close, because his pace slowed down to a gentle halt, and Harry sighed of relief for the much needed pause. He swallowed turning to look at him again. Draco still had his usual smirk on his face, but this time Harry didn’t care. The light in his eyes sent a shiver down his spine and was felt right into his cock, as drops of pre cum fell on the sheet underneath him.

Draco grabbed his hips dragging him back, forcing him on his knees, and Harry was ready to voice his annoyance at being manhandled like that, but all the protests died in his throat as Draco chose that moment to push his cock inside him in a long thrust that set a fire under Harry’s skin. He arched his neck, eyes closed and fingers grabbing on to the sheets.

It burned, but Draco’s fingers were holding him still and the pleasure from the strokes was so irresistible Harry forgot about anything else. Nothing else existed but Draco’s cock sliding in and out of him, filling him and stretching him. He growled, swinging his hips to follow the rhythm Draco dictated, no regrets or doubts left in his mind.

The sound of their moans echoed in the room, but then another, slightly familiar sound reached Harry’s ears, the noise of the flames crackling louder in the fireplace. He didn’t pay attention to it, and neither he did to the clock announcing the midnight, but he did notice Draco suddenly stopping his pounding.

“What.. what’s happening, why did you stop?” Harry panted out of breath.

Draco sighed “It’s my birthday”.

“Oh,” Harry mumbled with a frown, “Happy birthday”.

Draco’s laughter fell over Harry like a waterfall as the man bent forward to whisper in his ear “Thank you”, before he pulled out his dick to shove it back inside Harry’s ass. Harry recalled a faint memory of huge packages of sweets and treats Draco received around the finals period, but all thoughts were soon erased by the more pressing needs of his body.

He pressed his lips together as he tensed up, body and mind both melting in the breath-taking relief of an orgasm; he felt Draco empty himself inside of him after a couple of more thrust, but was too weak to care. Draco fell on top of him, but Harry didn’t care about that either, instead he found the warmth of that body against his back rather comforting, the only thing keeping him grounded to reality in the sea of sensations running through his quivering body.

It took him a while to come back; he barely registered Draco rolling over on his back, but as soon as he was able to turn on his brain, a bubble of embarrassment began tickling inside his chest at the realization of what he had done. At the first sign of Draco’s interest he had thrown all cautions – and planning – to the wind and was now left to deal with the consequences of his actions.

Harry bit his lower lip, looking for something to say to break the tense silence between them.

“So… any big plan for your birthday?” was all he managed to come up with. Draco cast him a look from under his arm as a little grin curled his lips.

“It’s going to be hard to top this”.

Harry blushed at his words and that captured Draco’s attention, because the man lift the arm resting on his eyes and turned on his side, propping himself on his forearm to be able to look at Harry.

“You said you wouldn’t regret it” he said with a weird tone Harry didn’t recognize; he turned to look into his eyes and he thought he saw a hint of sadness lurking behind the grey.

“It’s not…” Harry began, but he had to stop to look for the best way to express himself, not sure how Draco would react, “I’m not regretting it, but you have to agree, this is weird”.

“A little” the other man slowly nodded, “but I’m sure my therapist would think this is healthier than fighting to release some tension”.

Harry’s eyes went wild at those words. He tried, but couldn’t imagine Draco sitting on a therapist couch as he saw in the movies. 

“Are you seeing a therapist?” he asked before he could stop himself, but Draco didn’t seem to take offense on the question.

Instead, he shrugged “I had a lot of stuff to deal with”, and Harry didn’t need other details to understand perfectly what he meant. They all come out with demons from the war, and couldn’t deny feeling a little proud of Draco for taking care of his.

Draco’s voice came to interrupt his thoughts “We don’t need to do this, you know?” 

“Do what?” Harry frowned in confusion. Draco had lowered his eyes and was playing with the creases of the sheet.

“Talking about things, pretending we care, you can leave if you want to”.

And there it was again, the same tone he used before. Harry furrowed his brows, studying the pretty face in front of him. It was an expression he never saw on Draco, that’s why it took him so long to recognize it. The little pout of his lips, the fine lines on his forehead and his eyes still focused on the sheets as if that was the most interesting thing he ever saw. Draco was sad.

Hope burst in his chest and Harry had an idea. A little more of the same bravery that pushed him to come to Draco’s place at all couldn’t hurt, so he turned on his side too to face him with a big grin on his face.

“Do you want me to leave?” he then asked raising his eyebrows, and enjoying the pink blushing on Draco’s cheek, who looked at him through his lashes.

“You are the one who said this was weird” Draco mumbled, gaze going back to the sheets. This change in attitude intrigued Harry, who struggled seeing the man who fucked him senseless just a few minutes before in this blushing, stammering new one. All his fears forgotten, Harry leant forward to brush his fingers against Draco’s cheek, who did look at him like Harry had lost his mind, but also didn’t rejected his touch.

“Yeah,” Harry finally said taking back his hand to run it through his hair, his retort rolling around on his tongue for a second before he managed to spit it out “But the dick is good enough to balance out the weirdness”.

Harry held his breath. His words did catch Draco’s attention as he lifted his head to look at him with widened eyes and lips parted. Harry gave him his most innocent smile, waiting for Draco to register the honesty in his words. Only when he saw him relax his shoulders, Harry laid back on the bed, arms crossed under his head and lips still smiling.

“I wouldn’t mind a round two before I make you a birthday breakfast” he yawned, eyes half-closed, as the tension in his chest melted away. Of course it was weird laying there next to Draco, but a part of him always thought that was how they would end up, and it was definitely one of the reasons why he had done everything he could to stay away from him ever since he realized he liked men too.

“That’s presumptuous” Draco’s stubborn comment arrived right when Harry was about to let himself fall asleep; the suspect that Draco might just throw him out after all crossed his mind, but, peeking through his lashes, he watched Draco turn off the lights and grab the blanket he then threw over the both of them, all without softening the pout on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it, come yell at me on Tumblr @freddie-fox-baxter

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, you can come yell at me on tumblr @freddie-fox-baxter


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